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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852283">to atone (now or never now)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridiumring92/pseuds/iridiumring92'>iridiumring92</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hakuouki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Illnesses, M/M, Rasetsu - Freeform, Sexual Content, canonverse, other characters are mentioned but offscreen, souji has tuberculosis, takes place during Edo Blossoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:20:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridiumring92/pseuds/iridiumring92</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hijikata visits Okita in Osaka.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hijikata Toshizou/Okita Souji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to atone (now or never now)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title is partly from the soundtrack (atonement) and partly from the metric song of the same name.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s another one of those godawful nights, one that Okita can’t wait to be done with but that seems like it’s going to drag on forever. He’s feverish and achy and despondent, collapsed on his futon in Osaka, so far away from the Shinsengumi and the battlefields where he normally thrives. He’s been wracked by so many coughing fits tonight he’s lost count, but every time Matsumoto-sensei has come in to check on him, he’s waved him away. He can’t bear to hear anything more about his condition.</p>
<p>He wonders what time it is. The hour must be past midnight, he thinks, with how long it’s been dark, but he’s been retiring to his futon early lately and sometimes waking up early, while it’s still dark, restless, so maybe it’s not as late as he’s imagined. Moonlight streams in where it can, splintering the darkness. Okita watches it. He wonders if he’ll be awake throughout the long hours as it moves across the floor. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. Or maybe he’ll take his last breath tonight. He can’t say that wouldn’t be welcomed, either.</p>
<p>He’s tracing the outline of the light with his eyes when his breath catches and he falls into yet another coughing fit, his tuberculosis wrapping its spindly fingers around his chest and squeezing. His blood spatters across the floor before he can catch it, and before long he’s sprawled there, a hand over his mouth, trying to stop the coughing. He can’t. It’s making him weaker and weaker.</p>
<p>He’s gasping for breath when it’s over, and he can see the spots of blood shining under the light, deep red against the pale white of the moonlight on the floor. He feels his chest seize with something that’s not physical pain, but <em> emotional </em>, something he’s accustomed to by now and adept at dismissing. But the anger he can’t contain. He smashes a fist on the floor, and when he swears aloud, his voice comes out cracked. The spit that flies from his lips is red.</p>
<p>With that, he has to try harder to hold back the tears. What’s worse, he wants to know, being half alive like this, his life as a samurai basically over while he wastes away partially conscious in Osaka, or having died in battle so long ago? He slams his hand against the floor again, and again, hoping, almost, that he bleeds. At least then he would have had some power over his own afflictions.</p>
<p>The door slides open.</p>
<p>“Okita-kun?” a voice asks, and Okita bottles everything up, expecting to hear Matsumoto-sensei’s voice.</p>
<p>It’s not his.</p>
<p>He clenches his jaw. The very last thing he needs is for Hijikata to see him like this. It would be one thing for Hijikata to see him defeated in battle at the cost of his life, or on the other end of <em> seppuku, </em>but watching his own body tear him apart? This might just strip him of his dignity. He doesn’t want to turn over and face him.</p>
<p>“Okita-kun.”</p>
<p>The voice is a little harsher this time, and Okita hears footsteps.</p>
<p>“Are you alive in here?”</p>
<p>At this, Okita finally relaxes a bit, rolling over to face his commander. “Not even a little,” he says. “I’m fully deceased. Ask Matsumoto-sensei.”</p>
<p>Hijikata’s hand is on his hip, and he stands just beside the door in a new Western uniform, his once-long hair completely chopped off. He’s smiling a little, but it’s a smile of pity, one that Okita doesn’t want to see directed toward him. He tries not to think about all the blood on the floor and on him, on his white kimono.</p>
<p>“I really should call Matsumoto-sensei in here, seeing how you look,” he says, but he crosses the room to sit down beside Okita, clearly not about to contact the doctor. “Souji.”</p>
<p>Okita doesn’t miss the shift. It’s not just in the name, it’s in Hijikata’s dark eyes, too, in his face. Something’s happened. Okita sits up, ignoring the way spots flare in his eyes and his head starts to feel too light. “What is it?” he asks, feeling like his throat is closing. “Is it Kondou-san?”</p>
<p>Hijikata shakes his head. “No. Not Kondou-san. But we’re truly fighting a losing battle, and I fear it’s only going to get harder to protect him and his name. Besides that, the captains are restless. Nagakura and Harada especially.” His eyes trace the floor. “I have a bad feeling. With a war like this, I wonder sometimes if we’ll really be able to keep the Shinsengumi together.”</p>
<p>“What? No,” Okita says sharply, perhaps a little more sharply than he’d intended. “Hijikata-san, you can’t let the Shinsengumi fall apart. You’re its fukuchou. When Kondou-san was gone, the Shinsengumi belonged to <em> you </em> , and even though I’m not there, you <em> have </em>to save it. We’ve been through too much now.” By the end, his voice is shaking, his throat sore.</p>
<p>“I know that.” Hijikata scowls at the ground. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if the Shinsengumi were truly dissolved. Or if anything happened to Kondou-san. I’d . . . the only option . . .” He trails off, shaking his head. He sounds distraught, unwilling to consider the possibility, and at the same time sounding as if he already has, many times. “Souji, between you and me, I wonder, <em> so </em> often, if I’m even fit to be called the Shinsengumi’s fukuchou <em> . </em>”</p>
<p>Okita is stunned into silence. He wouldn’t have guessed that Hijikata had the time or effort to spare to question his own leadership, much less on a regular basis. Besides—all those arguments they’d had over Kondou’s safety, and Hijikata’s loyalty, his leadership—</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san . . . why are you telling me this?” he asks, his voice low. “I’m dying, and you don’t even think the Shinsengumi is going to make it through the war.”</p>
<p>“I need us to survive,” Hijikata says, and when he says it, his eyes are distant, his voice choked. “We can’t die here. We can’t just <em> succumb</em>. I don’t want to let Kondou’s name, and ours, turn to mere dust. I mean, Souji, you’ve been with us from the beginning. Wouldn’t that just mean all of the work we’ve done has been for nothing?”</p>
<p>Okita stares at him. Hijikata’s profile looks truly pained, his mouth pinched and his eyes full of a strange despair. Is his vice-commander really showing such emotion in front of him? Before now, Okita would have thought Hijikata didn’t <em> have </em> emotions. He’d always disdained the way Hijikata was able to just shrug things off, like Kondou’s recent injury. He remembers that time, though only vaguely—the anger spiraling from his core, radiating out to his fingertips and toes. He’d wanted to shake sense into Hijikata. Make him feel something for the one they all served.</p>
<p>But now it’s clear Hijikata feels very deeply for the Shinsengumi. Okita wonders what drove him to show this card. Maybe things really are that bad, and Hijikata feels like the only one he can reliably confide in is a man who’s dying, because of course dead men don’t share their secrets.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Okita glances up and sees that while Hijikata’s face has resumed its usual displeased glare, there’s still that undeniable sadness in his eyes. Along with lurking tears, ones he won’t let fall.</p>
<p>“What’s so funny, Souji?”</p>
<p>It’s barely a question. Huh. So Okita must have laughed at the thoughts in his own head. But now it’s clear that if he doesn’t say something, Hijikata will think he’s mocking him for showing his hand, and probably strangle him.</p>
<p>“I was just thinking . . . that you’re only telling me this because I’m going to die anyway.” The words <em> I’m going to die </em>are so familiar to him now that they roll off his tongue. He barely hesitates.</p>
<p>“You sound like Sannan. Assuming that other people are using you, that you’re worthless.” Hijikata leans back, still scowling but no longer murderous and no longer directing his ire at Okita. “No, Souji, that’s not why I’m telling you. I’m telling you because you’re the Captain of the First Division and I fucking need you, okay? You’re invaluable to the Shinsengumi. <em> I need you </em>.”</p>
<p>Okita’s jaw flexes, and he turns to Hijikata, who looks at him after a moment. Their eyes meet like a couple of swords clashing. They’re used to being at odds with one another, despite working and fighting together. There’s rarely been any positive sentiment between the two of them. More often their wills clash and they end up exchanging verbal blows.</p>
<p>“You need me.” He repeats it back to Hijikata, but the words feel foreign in his mouth, strange.</p>
<p>“Yes.” Hijikata’s voice is low. “And . . . Souji. I need you to listen to me, okay? It’s not just . . . I mean . . . I need you in more ways than one.”</p>
<p>Okita blinks at him. Something’s not adding up. He tips his head to one side, looking for clarification.</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to send you away to Osaka. I didn’t want to send Kondou-san, either. It was so strange without either of you there, with the Shinsengumi,” Hijikata begins. “I kept trying to distract myself, but the more I tried not to think about it, the more I couldn’t get it out of my head.” Okita hears his breath catch. “I missed the hell out of you, Okita Souji.”</p>
<p>“You . . .”</p>
<p>Okita, for once, is nearly speechless. At first he can’t even piece together what Hijikata’s words mean, but a couple of heartbeats later, it all comes together. His heart thumps painfully in his chest. He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t think it’s because of his illness, not this time.</p>
<p>He opens his mouth to speak, but Hijikata cuts him off again. “Hold it, Souji. Before you say anything, I need you to hear this, too.” He closes his eyes and takes a breath, clearly steeling himself for something difficult. Souji feels his chest seizing up again. He’s not sure he wants to hear what Hijikata has to say.</p>
<p>But there’s no time to decide, because Hijikata’s lips part and a couple of whispered words slip out.</p>
<p>“I’m a rasetsu now.”</p>
<p>Okita nearly chokes, and in the next second, he has Hijikata by the collar. “Hijikata-san, why? There’s no fucking reason you had to drink the ochimizu!” he shouts. “Maybe someone like Sannan-san thought he had to, but you? <em> You?” </em> He can barely breathe again, and he sits back on his heels, thinking of Heisuke. “Did you . . . meet death?”</p>
<p>Hijikata snorts. “That’s one way of putting it,” he says. “I nearly died in battle protecting Kondou-san. And when I was lying there in my own blood, Saitou came to me with the ochimizu<em> . </em>He told me he still had it from just before the battle of Toba-Fushimi, and he wouldn’t force me to drink it, but he was giving me the choice.” He sighs. “So now you know which path I chose.”</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san . . .” Okita’s fingers curl in the sheets. He doesn’t know what to make of this. “Why are you telling me this?”</p>
<p>“Because,” Hijikata says, looking him right in the eye, “if I had to choose between you finding out because I told you, and you finding out because I went headfirst into a bout of bloodlust right in front of you, I’d choose this one hands down.”</p>
<p>Okita makes a strange, involuntary noise in the back of his throat. Hijikata reaches out and puts a hand on his thigh, stroking a slow path back and forth almost aimlessly.</p>
<p>“Souji, if you’re worried about me, don’t be. I chose this. I’m still alive.” Hijikata’s trying to meet his gaze, he can tell, but Okita doesn’t know how to look at him. This is so much all at once. He needs some way to shake this off.</p>
<p>Some way . . .</p>
<p>His attention goes straight to Hijikata’s hand where it’s rubbing his thigh, and his toes curl a little. <em> I need you in more ways than one. </em>Slowly, Okita lets his eyes drift back up to Hijikata’s. They’re looking at each other in some sort of unspoken agreement, and Hijikata moves in.</p>
<p>He doesn’t go for Okita’s mouth first. Instead, he kisses Okita’s jaw, lips lingering there and tongue eventually flicking out, possibly where he found a speck of blood still staining Okita’s skin. The warmth of his lips and tongue, and the warm cadence of his breath, make Okita’s heart beat faster, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it.</p>
<p>Hijikata drifts, his hands exploring Okita’s chest while his mouth presses against Okita’s jaw and then the shell of his ear. He sucks on an earlobe, and Okita lets a small sound escape his lips at that. He can feel Hijikata’s breath against his ear, the gentle laps of his tongue, and it’s about to take him apart. He wants <em> more </em>. He wants to feel all of Hijikata, wants Hijikata to feel all of him. The feeling is all-consuming and only hindered by the reminders of his illness.</p>
<p>A moment later, Hijikata is rearranging himself, sitting practically in Okita’s lap with his legs framing Okita’s hips. It happens faster than Okita can really keep track of, probably because Hijikata is a rasetsu, perfect in speed and grace, while Okita is brought down a level by his illness. Even so, before Hijikata’s lips can meet his in earnest, Okita presses a hand against his mouth.</p>
<p>“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t. I don’t want you to get sick. Not because of me.”</p>
<p>Hijikata shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, Souji. I’m not human anymore. I’m . . .” He leans in and kisses another place on Okita’s jaw, and Okita feels him lick away the blood.</p>
<p>“Don’t say that,” Okita murmurs. “You don’t get to say you’re not human.”</p>
<p>Hijikata pulls back with steel in his eyes. “Why not? I could drink your blood, Souji, and I would be stronger for it. There’s nothing human about that.”</p>
<p>Okita meets his gaze. “Because I don’t see anything different about you,” he says.</p>
<p>Something in Hijikata’s expression softens, and he glances away for a moment. But when he turns back to Okita, there’s warmth, there’s fire there instead, and he kisses Okita without hesitation.</p>
<p>There’s something so relieving, so intoxicating about Hijikata’s kisses. They make him forget everything—including the fact that there’s a goddamn war happening, including the fact that they used to oppose each other at nearly every turn besides having the same goals in the Shinsengumi. They’re like a culmination of every feeling. That old lurking resentment is pulled from somewhere deep in his chest and replaced by something else, something he didn’t know he could feel and at the same time has been feeling forever.</p>
<p>He doesn’t even understand how this is happening, in any case. Hijikata could have chosen anyone and—he’s chosen Okita? It doesn’t really make sense, and Okita says so.</p>
<p>“Not anyone,” Hijikata says, his lips brushing the skin at Okita’s jaw and making him shiver. “I’m untouchable to most of them. They think I don’t feel, they think I’m too high up to even talk to them earnestly. But not you. You stand there and look me in the fucking eye. Damn if you don’t remind me that I’m alive, Okita Souji.”</p>
<p>Okita makes a strangled sort of sound. His hand slides up and into Hijikata’s hair, and Hijikata draws in a sharp breath at that movement. He bites down on the skin at the junction between Okita’s neck and shoulder. That catches Okita off guard, and while he’s pliant under Hijikata’s touch, Hijikata pushes him down.</p>
<p>He kisses Okita again, and Okita’s tongue finds its way into his mouth, finding a lower lip and then teeth and then tongue, stroking eagerly. Hijikata presses against him, letting Okita’s tongue stroke into his mouth as their bodies fit together shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. His hips push down into Okita’s, which spurs on a wave of sensations. Okita makes a noise into Hijikata’s mouth. The next thing he knows, Hijikata’s fingers are pulling at his loose white kimono, dragging it away from his shoulders.</p>
<p>He doesn’t have time to stop it. Before long, the top half of his emaciated body is fully visible to Hijikata under the low light. One of his hands pauses on Hijikata’s shoulder, or the shoulder of his uniform anyway, and he looks into Hijikata’s eyes, worried. He knows what he looks like. His ribs are showing, his collarbones protruding. His neck and shoulders are gaunt, hinting at his near inability to hold a sword these days. It’s not something he’d really wanted Hijikata to see.</p>
<p>“Souji . . .” Hijikata’s voice is pained, and when Okita meets his eyes again, he sees that pain reflected there, too. He wants to retreat back under his sheets. Or maybe he could blow out the candles, and whatever they’re going to do, they could do it in the dark.</p>
<p>“Don’t.” His voice is raspy, a fragment of what it should be. “I don’t want to hear about it, so if you’re going to say anything, you can just leave.”</p>
<p>“It’s always all or nothing with you, isn’t it,” Hijikata says, and begins to kiss Okita’s neck and collarbones, following an uncertain trail down his chest. The feeling makes Okita forget what he was going to say. He tips his head back and grits his teeth against the moans that threaten to escape.</p>
<p>This, for some reason, wasn’t how Okita had expected it to feel. But Hijikata’s mouth is doing some strange things to him, melting his skin, taking him apart piece by piece. He forgets what he’d been trying to say just a few moments earlier. Instead what passes his lips is “H-Hijikata-san . . .”</p>
<p>“Souji, you don’t have to hold back for me.” Okita opens his eyes and sees Hijikata looking down at him, that intense gaze threatening to level him. It’s over too soon, but in the next moment, Hijikata is leaning in to whisper in his ear, and that makes Okita shiver. “What do you want?”</p>
<p>Okita tells him, without hesitation.</p>
<p>Hijikata undresses him the rest of the way and traces the paths of his body with his hands. They find their way over Okita’s chest, fingers stopping in the spaces between ribs, and over his hips, where they gently find the outline of a hipbone and travel that outline over and over. They don’t discriminate. His touch doesn’t even prompt Hijikata to say anything about the way his illness has wasted him away, which is strange. Maybe they’re both just that lost.</p>
<p>Okita tries to return the favor for Hijikata, but his uniform has too many unfamiliar buttons and buckles that Okita’s fingers can’t manage. Hijikata ends up doing most of the work himself, but that’s fine by Okita, who doesn’t mind watching him undress at all.</p>
<p>His hands find the curves of Hijikata’s skin as soon as his clothes are off. He’s warm and muscled and lovely, and Okita finds himself lost in memorizing Hijikata’s body. It’s not that he’s ever really thought about Hijikata this way, at least not outright. Seeing him is new and fascinating and unlike anything he’s ever experienced. When he pulls Hijikata to him, the warmth of their bodies combined shocks him, and he makes a low satisfied sound.</p>
<p>“I wish . . . I would’ve been able to feel you before . . .” Hijikata whispers. He doesn’t even have to clarify what he means. Okita knows he’s referring to before his illness, before he became bedridden and weak and useless. Back when he might’ve been beautiful instead of pathetic.</p>
<p>“Well, this might be your last shot, so you might as well make the most of it,” Okita says, forcing a bitter smile. But when Hijikata pulls back and looks at him, it’s clear that he doesn’t find any part of it amusing. He touches Okita’s cheek, his touch so goddamn gentle that it makes Okita’s throat tight.</p>
<p>“I feel like I’ve failed you.” Hijikata strokes Okita’s cheekbone with a thumb. “Sending you away from everything you know so that you can waste away here while the rest of the Shinsengumi fight this futile war . . .”</p>
<p>Okita closes his eyes. “Let’s not talk about this,” he says.</p>
<p>“If you say so.”</p>
<p>Hijikata leans back in, his lips pressing and opening against Okita’s, moving softly and rhythmically. As he kisses Okita, his hands wander slowly down Okita’s body again, one of them eventually finding its way between his thighs. The unfamiliar sensation makes Okita shiver.</p>
<p>His fingers probe and stroke. Souji doesn’t protest. He closes his eyes and focuses on the way it feels, on the sensations somewhere other than in his head or chest. Hijikata’s fingers do strange things to him, much like his kisses, and he gives a low moan when they find a spot that makes his toes curl.</p>
<p>“Souji,” Hijikata murmurs, leaning back down toward him so that his voice, nearly a whisper, is audible. “I’m going to . . .”</p>
<p>He doesn’t have to finish. Souji gives him a nod, and Hijikata positions himself, pausing for a couple of heartbeats. Souji can hear both of their ragged breathing in the silence. He needs to dissolve into movement and shared breath and heat. And after Hijikata has made that first thrust, letting his pace slow and Souji adjust, he finally does.</p>
<p>Hijikata’s eyes are dark, his expression focused as he moves against Souji, adjusting until he finds an angle that makes Souji tip his head back and groan. Souji’s hands pull at Hijikata’s hair. Hijikata’s mouth finds its way to Souji’s neck, his shoulders, and Souji’s hands skip to his back, fingers digging in. Maybe in the morning there’ll be marks to show for it. That thought is distant, though, swallowed by the rhythmic sensation of Hijikata’s movement, the steadily building pleasure.</p>
<p>“Souji,” Hijikata whispers, breath hot against his neck. “Souji. <em> Souji.</em>”</p>
<p>Souji can hear his desperation in those whispers, and he lets one of his hands slip down from Hijikata’s back so that he can touch himself. The combined sensations drive him to arch his back, a little choked-off sound escaping his lips as he reaches his climax. Hijikata doesn’t take long to follow him. He moans into Souji’s neck, and his teeth scrape the skin.</p>
<p>“Ah—<em>Souji </em> . . .”</p>
<p>They ride out the rest of it pressed against one another, breathing and heart rates slowing bit by bit. The haze of their warmth separates them from the cold room, and Souji fights the urge to fall asleep. He’s so tired, and Hijikata feels so nice . . .</p>
<p>He hears Hijikata’s breath hitch, and he blinks, remembering his earlier confession about becoming a rasetsu. “Hey, Hijikata-san . . . ?” he begins. “Are you gonna be okay? Do you need blood?”</p>
<p>Hijikata hesitates, and Souji feels him exhale a soft breath. “No,” he says. “I’ll be all right. I thought . . . but I’m fine.” Souji is about to reply to this, but Hijikata speaks again before he can. “I’m going to pull out . . . okay?”</p>
<p>Souji murmurs something vaguely affirmative, and Hijikata slowly drags himself away, rolling off Souji and lying beside him. Their shoulders touch.</p>
<p>“We have to fucking clean ourselves up, don’t we,” he says, sounding exhausted.</p>
<p>“Nah,” Souji replies. He turns his head to kiss Hijikata’s shoulder. “That’s too much work. Let’s just go to sleep.” He pauses, his nose still brushing Hijikata’s skin. He smells nice, somehow. “Or are you not staying?”</p>
<p>“I’ll stay,” Hijikata says after a pause. “As long as you don’t cough on me.”</p>
<p>Souji snorts. “Well, obviously I was planning on it.”</p>
<p>Hijikata eventually works up the energy to clean them up despite everything. He lies on Souji’s futon with him when he’s done, on his back, his legs tangling with Souji’s. The whole thing is strange and lovely. Souji had kind of assumed that even though he was Captain of the 1st Division, he and Hijikata would always sort of be at odds with one another, perpetual tension hanging between them. He wonders when Hijikata started to miss him. When he realized he felt something else.</p>
<p>“I’ll miss this when you’re back at the Shinsengumi’s headquarters,” Souji murmurs. He’s half-drunk on the aftermath of their lovemaking. Or whatever it was they did. He’s not sure that Hijikata necessarily <em> made love </em>to him, but . . . well. He’s feeling rather nice now because of it. “When am I gonna see you again, Hijikata-san . . .”</p>
<p>Hijikata sighs. “I don’t know, Souji.” He takes Souji’s hand and starts to kiss the tips of his fingers, something that makes Souji shiver. “But I’m not abandoning you, all right? I want to see you again. I want to do this again. With you.”</p>
<p>Souji closes his eyes and replays those words in his head while Hijikata continues to kiss his fingers. “I’m cold,” he finally says, and Hijikata leans over to kiss him deeply before finding the folded blankets and pulling them over both of them.</p>
<p>“I’m guessing Matsumoto-sensei will be in to check on you in the morning,” Hijikata says. “I don’t want to cause trouble for either of you, so I’ll probably be gone. Don’t be surprised.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, I might be awake.” Souji shifts a little closer to Hijikata. “If I am, will you kiss me goodbye?”</p>
<p>Hijikata gives a low laugh. “Yes, Souji,” he says. “I will.” He leans over to give Souji another kiss. “Good night.”</p>
<p>Souji echoes him.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Hijikata is, indeed, gone in the morning.</p>
<p>And he wakes up when Matsumoto-sensei comes in with food and medicine for him, and the intention to check his vitals. He’s not particularly happy about any of the above, but he complies, hoping that Hijikata didn’t leave any visible marks on him. It’s bad enough that he had to quickly dress himself before Matsumoto-sensei actually came in.</p>
<p>“Okita-kun,” Matsumoto-sensei begins, breaking Souji out of his thoughts. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”</p>
<p>“What?” Souji asks back, his tone flat. He doesn’t really mean to sound rude, but he’d much rather sink back into thoughts of Hijikata and last night than be reminded of his illness.</p>
<p>“Your visitor last night . . . Hijikata?” Matsumoto asks, as if he didn’t already know the whole <em> Hijikata-fukuchou of the Shinsengumi </em>spiel. Souji waits. “Are the two of you sexually involved?”</p>
<p>Souji rolls his eyes. “I’m not doing this with you. You’re a doctor. I don’t want to hear it.”</p>
<p>“I was more preparing to talk about the emotional health of the whole thing, rather than physical.”</p>
<p><em> Who needs emotional health when you’re dying, </em>Souji thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “Yeah, but what makes you think you’re right about us being ‘involved’ anyway?” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.</p>
<p>“I intercepted him when he came in,” Matsumoto says, and then he levels a look at Souji. “And you’ll have to take my word for it since I don’t have a mirror for you, not that I expect you to. But you’ve got a bite mark on your neck.”</p>
<p>Souji puts a hand to his neck, fingers probing the skin to find it. <em> Oh. </em>There’s a spot that’s more tender than the rest, and when he touches it, he thinks he remembers Hijikata biting down there while his hips were moving against Souji’s. In the heated moments between them.</p>
<p>“Well, shit,” he says. “I guess you know now.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’re already aware of the risks,” Matsumoto says after a pause. “But Souji, listen . . . Neither of you is in a particularly stable situation to base a relationship on. You or he might just end up getting hurt.”</p>
<p>“Who said it was a relationship?” Souji asks. “All you asked was whether we’re ‘sexually involved.’”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Matsumoto concedes, “but still, sex can change the way you think about a person. Something in your body’s chemistry . . . In any case, even if it’s not a relationship, one or both of you might feel that it could—”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay. I get where you’re going with this. But Hijikata-san’s leaving, and I’m stuck here, and there’s probably no way we’re going to see each other again.” Souji crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you done?”</p>
<p>Matsumoto-sensei sighs. “I suppose,” he says. “I’ll be back with more medicine for you tonight. Get some rest, and call for me if you need anything.”</p>
<p>Souji tries to rest, but he’s restless. He ends up pacing his room and not asking for anything at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s too exhausted to actually do anything about it, but he thinks about that night with Hijikata a <em> lot </em> in the days that follow Hijikata’s departure.</p>
<p>Whenever his mind wanders, he finds himself picturing Hijikata leaning over him, hands caressing skin all over Souji’s body. He touches the bitten skin on his neck. He touches his lips. He closes his eyes and thinks about it, again and again, for moments that probably turn into hours.</p>
<p>Sometimes, when he’s feverish, he sleeps with only a sheet draped over his body, no robe. It reminds him of sleeping beside Hijikata, though it’s not exactly <em> the same, </em>considering Hijikata’s warmth isn’t beside him, the hiss of his breath absent from Souji’s ear.</p>
<p>Then he starts wondering if he’s just going to be a burden to Hijikata, because he’s sick with a disease for which there’s no real cure and he doesn’t seem to be bouncing back very well at all, seems to be nosediving toward his own last breath. He’s probably just going to go and die on Hijikata anyway, maybe before Hijikata gets back from . . . wherever he is now. At war. Commanding troops and possibly wielding his own sword against those who cross him. Maybe they’ll both meet their ends before they ever see each other again.</p>
<p>After that he actually misses Yukimura and Yamazaki and how pushy they both were. They might be able to find some medicine that, even if it didn’t <em> cure </em> Souji per se, maybe it could help with his symptoms. It’s not that Matsumoto-sensei’s medicines don’t help. It’s more that he’s even less willing to talk to the older doctor about his symptoms and problems because of their encounter after Hijikata spent the night. <em> I was more preparing to talk about the emotional health of the whole thing. </em>Emotional health, or whatever, is about the last thing Souji wants to talk about, period.</p>
<p> Even when it comes to Hijikata—maybe <em> especially </em>when it comes to Hijikata. Souji still has no idea what he feels for his former commander. He could chalk it all up to lust, to desperation, but neither one is going to fill the gaping hole in his chest that has nothing to do with his tuberculosis.</p>
<p>One morning, he wakes up to a damp cloth on his forehead, laid there by someone else's gentle touch. It's definitely not Matsumoto-sensei. He would’ve shouted for Souji to wake up at the door before he came in, and he would definitely be more conservative about touching Souji, anyway.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san . . . ?” Souji’s lips form the word before he even opens his eyes, still feverish and not quite awake.</p>
<p>“It’s just me, Okita,” a feminine voice says, and Souji opens his eyes, already hoping the warmth in his cheeks doesn’t show. <em> Damn. </em> Did he really just pull that half-asleep bullshit with Chizuru? She’s smiling, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and he curses himself silently. She <em> definitely </em>noticed.</p>
<p>“Ah, good,” Souji says, hoping his tone comes off unconcerned or relieved rather than embarrassed. “I missed your lovely face, Chizuru-chan.” Now she’s the one blushing. Success, then. Souji relaxes a little.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san sent me to check up on you,” Chizuru says. A playful note enters her voice as she continues, “Why did you think he would be here, Okita?”</p>
<p>For some reason, her manner sends a sharp twinge through Souji’s chest. Chizuru has grown so much from the timid girl they rescued those few years ago, and now even she is there to grow and thrive in the Shinsengumi, without him. She’s blossoming while he’s withering away.</p>
<p>“I, ah,” Souji begins. His jaw flexes as he attempts to keep the strangling wave of emotion at bay. “He was here a while back.”</p>
<p>Chizuru nods. “I heard he left for a day or so, but I assumed he was meeting with people from the shogunate,” she says. “So he came to see how you were doing.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” The word comes out pinched, and Souji knows he needs to change the subject, fast. “Did he send anyone else? Shimada? Yamazaki?”</p>
<p>“Both of them, yes. They’re talking to Matsumoto-sensei right now, in the other room.” Her expression is open, as if she’s trying to signal him that he can talk to her now, say anything he needs to say without the doctor around. Without anyone else from the Shinsengumi around.</p>
<p>Souji’s chest aches. He shouldn’t tell her anything, he knows that. He should go back to sleep and let her do what she needs to, give him something that might help with his fever or find him clean sheets, but at the same time he wants to talk to her, wants to <em> confide </em>in her. She might be the only person in the Shinsengumi, besides Hijikata, whom he can trust to keep this secret.</p>
<p>“How is Hijikata-san?” he asks, his voice soft.</p>
<p>Chizuru’s eyes shoot left, and Souji feels his weakening heart slam against his rib cage. “He’s . . . dealing with some things. I can tell he’s very tired. And I think he’s keeping something important to himself, something that’s bothering him, but of course he won’t talk to me about it. I would’ve told him to try and confide in Kondou-san,” she says, “but . . .” She pales, and Souji feels something in his chest go hollow.</p>
<p>“Fuck, what is it? What happened to Kondou-san?” he asks. His voice rasps in his throat, painful.</p>
<p>“He’s been taken prisoner by the Empire,” Chizuru sighs. She looks down at the floor. “The Imperials had the Shinsengumi surrounded at their base of operations, and Kondou-san opted to stay behind so that everyone else could escape.” A tear slips from her lashes. “He’s still alive, but it’s . . . things aren’t looking good, Souji. Harada and Nagakura left, too.”</p>
<p><em> I wonder if I’m even fit to be called the Shinsengumi’s fukuchou, </em> Hijikata’s voice says in his head. <em> The captains are restless. </em>He’d predicted it, but just how long has it been since Hijikata visited? In his head, it feels like a mere week has passed, but could this much have possibly happened in a week? No, it must have been more, but that means . . .</p>
<p>“Before Kondou-san was taken prisoner,” Chizuru says softly, “Hijikata-san was just . . . moody. He’d snap at the soldiers or just . . . disappear into his room all the time. I tried to bring him food, but he’d refuse it. And then after everything happened, Hijikata-san’s moods got even worse. I mean—I think he blamed himself, but I . . . I think something’s just eating away at him. Something he won’t talk to anyone about. It’s <em> festering.</em>”</p>
<p>Leave it to her to use a medical term to describe something like this, Souji thinks, but what she’s saying makes sense. And he can think of at least two things Hijikata is hiding from the Shinsengumi. “Chizuru-chan,” Souji says, “if I talk to you, will you keep everything I say a secret?”</p>
<p>“Of course, if that’s what you want.” Her eyes are full of concern, and while part of Souji is grateful, another part wants her to stop caring <em> so goddamn much </em>about him, because it fucking hurts.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san visited . . .” He trails off, about to lose his nerve. He doesn’t have to tell her this. He could just tell her to let him sleep and hope that he took his own last breath at the same time that Hijikata breathed his. But something in him won’t let go, won’t stop telling him that if he does this, he’ll feel better, lighter. “We slept together.”</p>
<p>“You did?” Chizuru’s face contorts even further, her brows pulling together. “And you haven’t seen him since? No wonder he’s so unstable. He misses you, and you’re so far away.”</p>
<p>She makes it sound so simple. But the ache in Souji’s chest—the invisible one—yawns open wide, and he rolls onto his side, curling up to make himself smaller. “We’re both going to die,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s not worth it, anyway. We’re not going to make it through the war. I’m—I shouldn’t—”</p>
<p>“Okita,” she says, laying a hand on his shoulder. His eyes meet hers, and there’s such warmth in them, he wants to melt into the floor so he doesn’t have to endure this any longer. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel, okay? And you don’t have to consign yourself to death just yet.”</p>
<p>“There’s something else,” Souji blurts out. “Please don’t tell him you know. <em> Please. </em>Hijikata-san’s a rasetsu. Chizuru-chan, please, help him if you can, but don’t . . . He’ll know I’m the one who told you.”</p>
<p>Her eyes go wide. “Oh,” she says. “Oh god. He is? <em> Oh. </em>Why hadn’t I noticed?” She clasps her hands together, and Souji sees that her eyes are full of tears again. “Okita . . . I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize.”</p>
<p>“Don’t apologize,” Okita says. “’S not your fault.”</p>
<p>“I feel so bad,” she whispers. “He’s probably been in so much pain, and I never even knew.”</p>
<p>“You know now,” Okita says. “But for your sake and his, it’s better that you pretend you didn’t. Okay?”</p>
<p>She nods. “It doesn’t leave this room.”</p>
<p>They’re both quiet for a while after that. Chizuru keeps looking toward the door, though it’s clear she’s not actually <em> seeing </em>it. Her eyes are distant, and she keeps trying to hold back tears, but it doesn’t work. They fall anyway, and she scrubs at her cheeks with the back of her hand.</p>
<p>“Hey, Chizuru-chan.” Souji reaches over and touches her wrist. “Please don’t cry.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she says, swiping at her eyes again. “It’s just a lot.” She pulls at the sleeve of her kimono absently. “We both had bad news, didn’t we? You’re just handling it a lot better than I am.”</p>
<p>Souji snorts. “Not <em> better</em>. Just different.”</p>
<p>There are voices in the hall, and, suddenly with his heart in his throat, Souji leans forward. “Will he come back?” he asks. “Hijikata-san?”</p>
<p>Chizuru looks worried. “He didn’t say,” she tells him in a low voice. “But Okita, please, hang on for him, all right? I’ll try to convince him, or . . . or something. I know he wants to see you again.”</p>
<p>“<em>Thank you</em>,” Souji says, his tone a little more fervent than he meant it to be, just before Matsumoto’s voice announces his presence at the door. A moment later, the room is a lot more crowded than it was before, Souji tunes everyone out, and Chizuru is standing up to leave.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know why, but he can’t stop himself from thinking, <em> It’s over. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>He appreciates the hell out of Chizuru. He trusts her. But he also doesn’t believe Hijikata is ever going to come back. He’ll probably waste away alone in this room, waiting for Matsumoto-sensei’s medicines and examinations, or maybe he’ll decide that the rest of this life isn’t worth living without a sword in his hand and go off somewhere to fight until he collapses from exhaustion or takes a blade or bullet through the chest. Hijikata has so much else to worry about. It’s more likely that he’ll push Souji to the bottom of the list and go off to die heroically in war.</p>
<p>It’s not like Hijikata needs to contract tuberculosis himself, anyway. He could go to Shimabara and have his pick of whoever he wanted instead. On a few particularly bad nights, Souji wishes he would.</p>
<p>He gets restless, picks up his sword, goes outside to swing it around some days. He’s admonished by Matsumoto. He doesn’t care much. He wants to take up his role as the Sword of the Shinsengumi again. Without that, what is he good for? What is he worth? When he’s not sleeping, dreaming of encounters with Hijikata or battlefields or what it’s like to die, that question haunts him.</p>
<p>And then one day there’s a voice at his door again, one that’s not Matsumoto’s.</p>
<p>“It’s me,” Hijikata says, and Souji immediately feels such disbelief that he can’t speak. The door slides open, and Hijikata steps into the room in full uniform. He kneels beside Souji’s futon. Souji just stares at him.</p>
<p>“You came back,” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement.</p>
<p>“Of course I came back.” Hijikata reaches out to press his hand against Souji’s cheek. “You’re too warm.”</p>
<p>“Not much I can do,” Souji says, a little sharply, but he feels remorse immediately flood his chest when Hijikata stands up to get him a damp cloth, the way Chizuru had. He returns, brushes Souji’s bangs off his forehead, and lays the cloth across his skin. “Hijikata-san, I didn’t mean—”</p>
<p>“It’s all right.” Despite his words, there’s an aching sorrow in his tone, one that Souji hadn’t noticed right off. He searches Hijikata’s face and finds something weighing down his expression, finds sadness that likely hasn’t left his eyes for a long time.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san,” Souji says softly, meeting his eyes. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Souji,” Hijikata says, and there’s such sorrow in his voice that Souji feels the ache in his chest stretch wider. Hijikata places his palms on either side of Souji’s face, but he can only hold Souji’s gaze for a couple of heartbeats before his eyes flit down, and with them, his hands, sliding over Souji’s neck and shoulders and chest. “Souji.”</p>
<p>“What, Hijikata-san?” Souji asks. He half wants to take Hijikata’s shoulders under his hands and shake the answer out of him, but at the same time, Hijikata’s stillness is making him nervous. He also can’t quite push down the need to pull him into his arms. “What is it?”</p>
<p>“Kondou-san . . .” Hijikata’s voice breaks, but he keeps it together. “Kondou-san was executed. He was beheaded. He was denied an honorable death, but just the same . . . he handled it honorably. He—”</p>
<p>“<em>No</em>,” Souji snaps. He sits up, the cloth at his forehead falling away, and grips Hijikata’s knees, as if somehow they’ll ground him. His fingers squeeze until his knuckles go white and his fingertips throb. “No, no, <em> no. </em> Hijikata-san, tell me that’s not true.” No response from Hijikata, whose gaze is still downcast, and Souji feels the need to scream bubbling up in his chest from somewhere deep and unidentifiable. “Kondou-san is alive. He <em> has </em> to be. He’s not dead, fucking <em> tell </em> me he’s not dead!” Still no response. “What the fuck do I have left? I’m <em> dying</em>, Hijikata-san, I never fucking see you, or <em> anyone</em>, and you’re going to let Kondou-san be taken from me, too? <em> What do I have left? </em>”</p>
<p>“Souji,” Hijikata says, reaching for Souji’s hands, his slender, callused fingers wrapping around Souji’s wrists. “Please don’t do this. It’s over. There was nothing any of us could do, and you’re not in any condition—”</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me what kind of condition I am or am not in!” Souji shouts, and then something twinges in his chest, and he breaks into a coughing fit. He turns aside and tries to contain it, but it won’t be contained, and soon there’s blood all over his sleeve and the floor and he’s absolutely drained. He turns, eyes stinging, and rests his head in Hijikata’s lap, trying to force back sobs.</p>
<p>He tries to say something, but Hijikata shushes him and tells him not to speak, not to strain himself. “I’m so sorry, Souji. I don’t—I don’t even have words for this. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>He strokes Souji’s hair, and a few moments later, without letting himself break down and cry, Souji straightens up. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve, leans forward, and presses his lips against Hijikata’s.</p>
<p>Hijikata lets him, even kisses him back, but between kisses, he interrupts, “Souji, don’t.” Souji ignores him. Hijikata breaks another kiss to say, “Souji, please, don’t do this now,” and Souji responds by pushing him down.</p>
<p> He kisses Hijikata more forcefully, straddles his hips as he pushes his shoulders down into the floor with what little strength he has left. He just wants to keep them both from saying anything. Not talking is easier.</p>
<p>And then Hijikata tenses, a sharp groan escaping his lips as his hair goes stark white.</p>
<p>Souji sits up so fast he sees darkness at the edges of his vision. “Shit,” he gasps. “I didn’t—”</p>
<p>“I’ll just—go,” Hijikata says, though the words are such an effort Souji can’t imagine just telling him to go. He tries to sit up, to stand, but he’s unsteady on his feet, and Souji grabs one of his hands in both of his own, pulling him back down.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san,” he murmurs. “I can help you.” Hijikata looks away, and Souji starts to plead with him, to grasp his hand tighter. “Hijikata-san. I’m not letting you leave me to get through this alone. This shouldn’t be your burden to bear.” It’s clear Hijikata is barely hearing anything he’s saying, and Souji pulls him down, instructing him not to move. He retrieves a sword from the side of the room and returns, pulling it from his sheath and opening his own skin without hesitation.</p>
<p>“Souji—” Hijikata begins, voice agonized.</p>
<p>“Take it,” Souji says. He pushes his arm toward Hijikata, who moments later has his lips pressed to Souji’s wound. He laps at the blood from the cut. The relief that passes over his features and the feeling of lips on skin is enough repayment for Souji.</p>
<p>“I swore I wouldn’t let myself have an episode of bloodlust around you,” Hijikata murmurs when he’s returned to normal, wiping his mouth and trying not to meet Souji’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Because I’m sick?” Souji asks, deadpan.</p>
<p>“No,” Hijikata says. “Because you have enough worries.” He leans in and kisses the corner of Souji’s mouth. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Then he kisses Souji in earnest, lips meeting and opening, much less violent and insistent than earlier. Souji’s hands slide up into Hijikata’s hair, feeling the short, loose strands between his fingers.</p>
<p>They don’t speak. In the time between them that follows, however long it happens to be, they concentrate on divesting each other of clothing, kissing neglected skin, letting hands wander. When Souji hears Hijikata moan, low and short as if he tried to stop himself halfway through, he knows exactly where this is going. He drags Hijikata down on top of him. Half a heartbeat later, Hijikata is kissing his way down Souji’s chest, stopping only to free Souji’s robe and bare the skin below his waist.</p>
<p>Souji still tenses under his gaze, knowing that he’s lost more weight even since Hijikata visited last. Matsumoto-sensei has commented on that more than Souji would have liked, and these last times, he’s had to directly try not to imagine what Hijikata will think.</p>
<p>Hijikata doesn’t say anything, but he does press his face against Souji’s thigh. Souji can feel each of his breaths.</p>
<p>He remembers how Hijikata reacted the last time Souji tried to talk his way out of this, and he tries forcing a smile. “Could be worse, huh? I’m not down to my skin and bones yet.”</p>
<p>Hijikata turns his head to kiss Souji’s inner thigh. “Souji, listen,” he whispers, straightening up. “First of all, I want you to know that—that I don’t find you unattractive. You’re still—” His cheeks are bright with color, and Souji feels himself grinning in earnest.</p>
<p>He cups Hijikata’s cheek and pulls him in for another kiss. “Glad to hear it,” he says, relishing the embarrassment on Hijikata’s face only slightly.</p>
<p>“I’m also,” Hijikata whispers, averting his eyes, “losing you. And I’ve never hated the thought of losing someone so much.”</p>
<p>The smile vanishes from Souji’s lips. He feels tears prick at his eyes, and he blinks them back, clenching his jaw. Hearing this from Hijikata makes him want to scream, throw something, maybe start pounding his fist into the floor like he does on bad days. This is Hijikata-fukuchou of the Shinsengumi. He doesn’t deserve to have to worry about losing someone.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san—”</p>
<p>“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” Hijikata says. Souji nods, and Hijikata leans back in.</p>
<p>He’s drowning in Hijikata’s kisses for a while after that, letting his hands trail over Hijikata’s back and chest, and when he finally gets the rest of Hijikata’s clothes free and spares a hand to touch him, Hijikata’s answering sigh is desperate.</p>
<p>“How’s that feel?” Souji asks, half teasing.</p>
<p>Hijikata frowns. “It’s not like I’ve slept with anyone since I was last here with you.”</p>
<p>“You could’ve.”</p>
<p>“No.” Hijikata closes his eyes. “I would have just done them a disservice by thinking of you.”</p>
<p>“If you couldn’t think about anyone else, why didn’t you just get yourself off?”</p>
<p>Hijikata shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. “I wasn’t going to let any of my soldiers catch me in a moment of weakness.”</p>
<p>“You’re letting me catch you in a moment of weakness,” Souji says. He makes a slow stroke with his thumb, and Hijikata groans, letting his gaze slip from Souji’s. His head hangs heavy, bangs obscuring his face, his eyes probably either closed or on Souji’s hand.</p>
<p>“You’re the one who makes me weak,” Hijikata whispers.</p>
<p>He leans in and kisses Souji again, and again, and again, enough that Souji stops counting. Eventually he murmurs something along the lines of <em> Let me do this </em>in Souji’s ear, and he pulls Souji’s hand away, taking them both into his own hand and positioning himself over Souji.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san. . . .” The word is several beats longer than it should be, but Souji can’t seem to stop from slurring the syllables, taken in by the feeling of Hijikata’s hand wrapped around them.</p>
<p>Hijikata shushes him, presses a kiss to his lips, and starts to move. Souji grits his teeth against a moan, pulling Hijikata into him and locking his legs around Hijikata’s hips. He doesn’t think he’ll last very long like this, and a small amount of time proves his suspicions right, he’s hovering on the edge with little restraint left to hold himself back. But it’s clear Hijikata isn’t going to make it either. The sounds that escape his lips into Souji’s shoulder are desperate, and when he finishes, it’s all at once, hard, with muscles tensing. Souji feels Hijikata press his face against the junction between his neck and shoulder, but only vaguely. He’s reached his limit, too.</p>
<p>The solid wave of pleasure crashes over him, one like he hasn’t felt in the last however-many weeks, and he cries out, fingers pulling at Hijikata’s hair. As he comes down from the high, he feels a little embarrassed at not having bitten his tongue harder. Hopefully there was no one close enough to have heard.</p>
<p>“Souji.” Hijikata is panting into his shoulder, trying to get his breath back. “I—I have to tell you so—”</p>
<p>“No,” Souji says easily, one hand coming up to touch Hijikata’s shoulder. “Not now, please, Hijikata-san. You don’t have to do this now.”</p>
<p>“This might be the last time, Souji,” Hijikata says, pressing himself up to look Souji in the eye. “It might be the last time we see each other. I thought we straightened that much out. I might die with the Shinsengumi—”</p>
<p>“I know,” Souji says, even though the words are rough in his throat. He doesn’t think he can let the Shinsengumi die, or Hijikata, though at the same time he knows that he doesn’t really have any power to prevent either, because he’s dying himself. “I just . . .”</p>
<p>“You want to believe it’s not true,” Hijikata says. “And so do I. I promise. But it’s all too possible, and I don’t want to have missed the chance to tell you.”</p>
<p>Souji lets out a sigh. He closes his eyes, waiting, and Hijikata’s voice whispers the words into his ear. Only three, and such small words, but they each stab at Souji’s heart all the same. He doesn’t even know how Hijikata worked up the courage to say them.</p>
<p> He turns his face away. He doesn’t know what the hell <em> love </em>feels like, and he thinks maybe, if he had the answer to that, he could echo Hijikata. He so badly wants to, wishes he could give Hijikata that added satisfaction, but he has no clue how to convince himself of the words, to form them.</p>
<p>He thinks at first that Hijikata is angry with him for not saying it back, that he’s frustrated, because he’s tense and silent, but then his breath hisses against Souji’s shoulder again as he repeats the words. Over and over, until his voice is greater than a whisper. A rasp in the back of his throat, barely, but still.</p>
<p>“Hijikata-san.” Souji finds himself stroking Hijikata’s hair, mostly because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I—”</p>
<p>Hijikata drowns whatever his next words would’ve been in a kiss. When he surfaces from it, he whispers, “You don’t have to say anything, Souji. I understand, all right?”</p>
<p>“I just—don’t know what I feel,” Souji says, fingers digging into the skin at Hijikata’s back.</p>
<p>“I hear you.” Hijikata kisses him again. Souji tries to pour everything that he does feel into that kiss, whether he can put words to it or not. He presses against Hijikata, an involuntary sound or two escaping his lips. Hijikata finally rolls off him with a sigh.</p>
<p>“I’ll clean us up, you just stay there,” he says to Souji, and before Souji can protest, he’s gone. Souji misses his warmth. He clings to Hijikata when he comes back, and Hijikata grumbles something about how Souji’s making it hard for him to finish, to which Souji makes a relatively inappropriate joke, one he would never have made before . . . <em> this. </em>Whatever it is.</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Hijikata murmurs, finally lying down and kissing Souji’s neck. Souji gives a low laugh, kisses Hijikata back. Were it not for the dull aches of his illness, he might have felt like he was, in this moment, finally, fully alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Morning is difficult, necessary, inconvenient. Souji thinks of a good deal of words he could use to describe it as he walks outside on unsteady legs to join Hijikata, who’s watching the sun come up. Souji immediately leans on him, and Hijikata makes a noise of protest.</p>
<p>“Oh, sorry,” Souji says with a grin. “Lost my balance a little.”</p>
<p>“Shut up and come here.” Hijikata cups Souji’s chin in his hand and pulls him in, and for that moment, Souji feels something other than the fever and the cold air around them. When Hijikata draws back, he says, “I’m trusting you to get some more sleep after I leave, you understand?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Souji says, pressing a kiss to the soft skin beneath Hijikata’s ear.</p>
<p>Hijikata angles his head and murmurs, “I’m coming back for you.” Souji doesn’t respond at first. “I hope you know that, no matter what,” Hijikata adds, and Souji buries his face in Hijikata’s neck, tense all over. Hijikata’s hand slides into his hair. “Souji.”</p>
<p>“I’m afraid,” Souji says in a soft voice. Hijikata pulls him closer.</p>
<p>“So am I,” he says, “but it’s familiar, now, after all this time we’ve been with the Shinsengumi. If you feel that way when I’m not around, think of all the things we went through together.” He pulls back, and Souji sees that his cheeks are flushed. “I didn’t mean to give a speech as if we were soldiers going into battle.”</p>
<p>“Well, we are.” Hijikata fixes him with a questioning glance, and Souji says, “You’re fighting a war, and I’m fighting this illness. . . . That’s as good a battle as any.”</p>
<p>Hijikata nods. “You’re right,” he says. For a while, both of them look not at each other but at the sun painting the sky in an array of pastel colors. Souji knows sunrise means Hijikata will have to leave soon. “I’ll remember that while I’m away.”</p>
<p>Souji embraces him again, not wanting to forget how Hijikata feels under his hands. He’s trying not to think about how much he’s going to miss him, how much it’s going to hurt waking up and realizing he’s alone, wondering where Hijikata is, if he’s still breathing. But he has to cling to those words—<em> I’m coming back for you— </em>because those along with the memories are going to be all he has.</p>
<p>“Write me some haiku,” he tells Hijikata, trying to force a smile.</p>
<p>Hijikata gives a short laugh and shakes his head, his hair brushing Souji’s cheek. “Are you ever serious for more than two minutes?”</p>
<p>Souji hesitates. Then he replies by repeating back the words Hijikata had said to him last night. He feels Hijikata pull half away in surprise, but in the next moment, he’s relaxing into Souji again, sighing in what sounds like relief.</p>
<p>“Get some rest,” Hijikata says, stepping back at last. There’s that rare half-smile on his lips. “I’ll see you soon.”</p>
<p> “See you soon,” Souji breathes.</p>
<p>When Hijikata steps out of sight, Souji closes his eyes, hoping to hold the image of him standing there, barely an arm’s length away, real and alive and smiling, in his mind as long as he possibly can.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AAAAAAAA this fic is like a year old almost?? i wasn't planning on posting it i guess but i dug it up yesterday and OW, my hakuouki feels... i remember it was really difficult to close because so many of their endings are so damn sad.</p>
<p>tumblr <a href="http://heart-held-captive.tumblr.com">@heart-held-captive</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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